


hearts are lonely hunters.

by propeller



Series: everything that i know about you. [9]
Category: Dolan Twins - Fandom, Magcon (Video Blogging RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Insecure Ethan, Light Angst, M/M, bodyshame, ethan has mild body dysphoria, grayson consoles him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:20:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22566169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/propeller/pseuds/propeller
Summary: --based on ethan discovering all the hate-tweets about himself.--"Wow." Ethan murmurs dumbly, his eyes raking over Grayson's towering form, as Grayson smirks at the mirror's reflection.  He says it before he realises it, and then coughs nervously, acting like he didn't just compliment his brother. It's more of a realisation for Ethan, on how good his brother always manages to look. How Grayson's clothes always seem to accentuate each bicep; every manly curve. Whereas, Ethan feels as if he just sinks into his clothes - drowns in them - his body not flattering up to the material at all.( Okay, so maybe it would help if he didn't wear oversized sweaters all of the time, but it was an insecurity thing. )--
Relationships: Ethan Dolan & Grayson Dolan, Ethan Dolan/Grayson Dolan
Series: everything that i know about you. [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1454998
Comments: 14
Kudos: 55





	hearts are lonely hunters.

**Author's Note:**

> slightly inspired by avery's request about ethan being bodyshamed.  
> \- and i also managed to find hate-tweets about ethan - and they were disgusting. all hate-tweets, about anyone, are disgusting. please spread love instead.
> 
> the tie part was a fun addition bc grayson's the one wearing a bowtie at every event to exist.
> 
> \--  
> 29/02 update -- 
> 
> okay, it's been awhile since i've written this, but this has just come up -  
> to all new readers; i hate to say this - but ethan's been thrown under the bus a lot recently, about his 'acne.' whilst this fic is about hate-tweets about him in general, the tweets about him being ugly or 'feeling trypophobic because of his forehead pimples' are disgusting. ethan's even tweeted about it, and it's just so sad. 
> 
> twitter's already a very negative place, and it sucks to see someone being hated on for something that's completely normal, and something they cannot control.
> 
> that's all. hope you have a good day ahead.

* * *

"Wow." Ethan murmurs dumbly, his eyes raking over Grayson's towering form, as Grayson smirks at the mirror's reflection. He says it before he realises it, and then coughs nervously, acting like he didn't just compliment his brother. It's more of a realisation for Ethan, on how _good_ his brother always manages to look. How Grayson's clothes always seem to accentuate each bicep; every manly curve. Whereas, Ethan feels as if he just sinks into his clothes - drowns in them - his body not flattering up to the material at all. _Maybe it would help if he didn't wear oversized sweaters all of the time, but it was an insecurity thing._

"I clean up well, right, E?" Grayson speaks, his eyes meeting Ethan's in the reflection. Ethan looks away, nodding to himself. He scratches the back of his neck, biting his bottom lip. Ethan has to credit Grayson for it - he _does_ clean up well. His stubble is trimmed neatly; his hair gelled, and his earring removed. The three-piece tuxedo seems to fit Grayson like a second-skin - like a, _like a_ glove. Ethan grits his teeth at the thought.

"How come you always get to wear the bowtie?" Ethan responds, his gaze turning back to Grayson - as if he were a magnet, and Ethan could do nothing but _be_ attracted. In a _brotherly_ way, of course. _In an envious way_ \- that would be more accurate. Like when you see a beautiful person on the street, and you can't help but admire them, with the undertoning thoughts of _"I wish that was me._ "

Ethan knows it's ridiculous to be envious of his own _twin_ brother. They look practically the same. So yeah, maybe Grayson's nose is a bit more ( _a lot more)_ symmetrical, and yeah, so he does have a better smile, and maybe Grayson does have a face that looks less like a _bicycle seat_ \- but they are identical twins. So, it's safe for Ethan to shake off the thoughts, and blame the insecurity on paranoia.

"Because it looks better on me." Comes the reply, accompanied with a grin.

 _Okay._ Maybe it wasn't just paranoia. Perhaps, Grayson, in fact, did look better than he did.  
Something that was completely resented by Ethan, after all, it wasn't fair for one of them to have more followers, more likes, more 'choke me, daddy' comments. _What was he doing wrong?_

"Yeah, you've said that for the past three events that we've been to, _Grayson._ Literally so unfair. I bet the media's gonna notice how _Grayson Dolan_ is always looking fancy with the bowtie, and _Ethan Dolan_ gets stuck looking like a Caucasian dad with a shitty tie."

"Our dad never wore ties, and he was half-Caucasian." Grayson deadpans, adjusting his bowtie. Ethan glares at Grayson's back.

"Because _cool people do not wear ties._ " Ethan grumbles, as he picks up his own suit-set from Grayson's bed. Grayson spares him a glance before scoffing in disbelief.

* * *

Grayson rests against the doorway, arms crossed at his chest, a small frown finding its way to his lips.

Ethan is halfway across his bedroom and hasn’t noticed - instead his entire focus is on himself, double-checking then triple-checking himself in the mirror; the blow-dryer still connected to the powerpoint on the wall. Ethan peers at himself, ruffling a few strands of adamant hair, trying to perfect the already seemingly perfect hair. Then, his steady hands smoothen out the non-existent wrinkles on the lapels of his tuxedo's vest.

Grayson had since realized that this had become some sort of routine. Every-time that they went to some sort of big event - red carpet; awards ceremony; you name it - Ethan would stand in front of the mirror checking and rechecking himself, over and over.

Grayson knew that there was no point asking Ethan about it, because he would deny it instantly. Normally, he wore practically the same thing every day; yet he ended up making a giant facade out of getting ready for even the most minor of things.

Grayson seems to be one of the few who can see past the confident demeaner that Ethan puts up, and _he_ knows his twin well enough _to_ know that Ethan didn't act like it, but he was a complete softie. Maybe not as sensitive as Grayson, but definitely close. And, at the end of the day, under his tough-guy-mask, Ethan wanted, no, _required_ validation.

Even if he didn't put the effort in, Ethan still had an amazing sense of style - an ability to look good in practically everything he wore, and tonight was no exception. Dressed in a dark fitted suit, Ethan was breathtaking.

"You look great." Grayson finally declares, startling Ethan out of his thoughts.

"No, I don't." Ethan admits, staring at the tie in his hands. There was no way that he was going to wear a tie tonight. "The jacket wasn't tailored properly. I look like I got run over by a truck or something."

Sometimes, Grayson wishes he could show Ethan what he sees - from his own eyes. Grayson wishes he could explain to Ethan that, _you look so good that I'm pretty sure every girl, and guy, would be salivating at just the sight of you._

But instead, he smiles patiently. "Trust me, dude, you look fine."

"Gray, you gave them _your_ measurements. I'm a piece of baloney compared to you." Ethan scowls, crossing his arms. He _hated_ how the "fitted" pants were loose on him; how the shirt was a looser fit on him, and how the blazer made him look like he borrowed the suit jacket from one of his friends. He's not an impatient person, but sometimes - _just sometimes -_ he wished that Grayson would understand they're not the same person.

Grayson rolls his eyes to the ceiling in frustration, with no idea how to politely tell Ethan to _hurry the fuck up_. "What will it take for you to believe that you look good, E? There's literally nothing wrong with the measurements. We're twins."

Ethan gives Grayson one of his signature dumbfounded expressions. "Bullshit. You're more buff than I am; so my sleeves make my arms look like sausages in their skin. It's unfair as shit, Gray." Exasperated, Ethan takes off the jacket and throws it on the bed, not daring to meet Grayson's eyes; knowing that his twin would be annoyed with him anyway.

"Ethan." Grayson sighs, irritated. "You can't pull this shit everytime we go out. We're already late."

"Then go without me." It's daring, but deep inside, he knows that Grayson would _never._ Right?

Grayson rolls his eyes, not even considering the suggestion - before making his way over towards Ethan's bed, sitting down next to him. "What's going on?" Grayson murmurs, his hands clasping Ethan's. But, of course - Ethan pulls away. _Naturally._

"Nothing, _Grayson_. Leave me alone." Ethan gets up, and opens his door - tilting his head towards the hallway in indication for Grayson to leave. Reluctantly, Grayson shakes his head in disbelief, and leaves the room without further comment. He hates when Ethan acts as if he were on his man-period. And, he _hates_ how it struck at any time, without any context.

Making sure that the door was closed before he did anything else; Ethan rests his forehead against the wall - wishing he wasn't like this all the time. _But, how could he help it?_

* * *

"Take a nap with me." Grayson mumbles the next day; his head barely visible in the pile of blankets.

"I will." A promise. One that wouldn't be thought about. Ethan tries to ease his arm out of Grayson's grip, but the grip is dead weight - impossible to budge. "Let go." Ethan exhaleds before sighing heavily. "Come on, E. I wanna sleep." Grayson protests, barely coherent. He was a light sleeper; always knew what was happening around him; remained mindful about his surroundings. Ethan, however? He could sleep through an earthquake, a tsunami, World War III, and then still have the lack of decency to ask for five more minutes.

"Then, _sleep._ " It was a monotone argument, one that neither of them had the energy or patience for.

"Not without you." Grayson heaves, his eyelids fluttering. Ethan raises his eyes to the heavens in disbelief. _What a wuss._

"I'm just gonna check the mirror." Ethan whispers, desperately this time, running a hand through his own matted hair. His fingertips became wet, and he realizes that he had been sweating. _Gross._

"Why." Gray demands, now snuggling into the pillow, already back in his dreamland. "You're beautiful." Was the last thing he said, before he fell asleep again; his chest rising, and falling softly. His grip on Ethan's arm loosens, and Ethan pulls away, shaking his head in irony. _What a load of bullshit._

* * *

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Grayson asks the week after, irritated to no end. His hair falls over his forehead; and he raises his eyebrows at Ethan, who doesn't meet his eyes. Frustrated, Grayson puts Ethan's mug of coffee, _dairy-free - mind you_ , down, and crosses his arms. Ethan thanks him silently for it, by nodding.

"Answer me." Okay, so maybe Ethan's little acknowledgement wasn't enough for him. _Grayson really_ means business.

And, of-course, Ethan's not going to give him a straight answer - because it's _Ethan_ , and he still doesn't even understand what he's upset about - _but_ it is something. Something that hasn't been digesting well in the digestive system of his _thoughts._ He's been brooding, and endlessly scrolling through his Twitter feed - as if that contains all the answers to the questions he doesn't even _know_ he has.

 _"_ Stop being annoying." He simply answers, raising the mug to his mouth; trying to hide his amused smile despite the situation. _Fuck,_ he didn't want to laugh; but angry Grayson was always too funny for him to handle. Grayson was like a little teapot when he got mad; except he wasn't _short, and stout_ \- and Ethan almost asked him where his _handle_ was so he could "pour" him out. _Not helping._

"Oh, so, I'm being annoying? Me? You’re the one who's been fucking ignoring me for the past two days."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Ethan's aloof about it - he decides it's a better way to handle the situation. Truth is; he doesn't know why he's been avoiding Grayson either.

Maybe he likes the fact that he can now look into the mirror; without Grayson being beside him - and the refreshing change of only seeing his own features; rather than having to compare them with Grayson's. And, how _Grayson's_ smile was more _straight_ , and how Grayson's face didn't _crinkle up_ whenever he laughed. _Fuck._ He was doing it again. All of that endless thinking, and wondering - was he even enough? Or would he always be brooding about the fact that Grayson was obviously better than him; and how everyone probably came to the channel for _Gray._ Ethan mused about why he was even trying anymore, at this point.

There was that day when he got his wisdom teeth out; and he accidentally asked the question out-loud. _"Does anyone even come to this channel for me?"_ \- and he had physically cringed; almost retreating into his own body - when he had watched the video again; and realised how insecure he was in it.

"Yes, you do know what I'm talking about. Stop sitting there and acting dumb." At this point, Kyle walks into the room; and Grayson takes a seat beside Ethan on the dining table - his voice now lower than before. "Tell me what's wrong, E. We can fix it." It's a softer approach, and Ethan can feel the wraith of the question wrapping around him.

Kyle gives both of them a glance, before grabbing his equipment off the desk, and leaving. Ethan doesn't know what to say.

The pool-maintenance guy is drilling away in their backyard; and he can hear an especially loud crow behind him. He finally looks up to see Grayson still observing him; waiting for an answer. Ethan _knew_ that he was wasting both of their time - but he couldn't help it. What could he say if he had nothing to say?

"I'm fucking sick of competing with you, Grayson. It’s like - like - _like_ everything we do is some sort of competition, yeah? And, I'm never gonna be better than you. So, what's the point?" The words are out before he can stop and think - and he regrets it instantly. The question lies between them awkwardly, as if even _it_ didn't want to be there.

He reads the surprise on Grayson's face - his calloused fingers still warm from the steaming mug, now clasping his hands without realisation. They pause for a second, neither of them making a sound except for their steady breathing. It was as if they were both gathering their thoughts - wondering how to proceed.

"Fuck that." Grayson finally frowns, his face conforming into one of disgust. "Who gives a shit, right?" He leans closer this time, his breath warm, and minty from the gum that he had been chewing since _like_ yesterday. He rubs Ethan's hand, soothingly. "You're fine the way you are."

Ethan wonders if Grayson had trouble believing that himself, since he was always known as the 'better-looking' twin; and he would always have more _followers_ than Ethan would. And, fans would always throw himself at _Grayson_ first, giving Ethan an apologetic glance over their shoulder.

Ethan pulled his hand away, placing the phone down as if he wanted nothing to with it. "Everyone else doesn't seem to think so." He muttered, staring at the wall hopelessly.

"We're the same, E. Why would anyone say anything like that to you?" 

Ethan glares at Grayson, realising that he'll never _get_ it. "Yeah, but that's the thing, though - right. We're _not_ the same. Literally everyone tweets about how _"Ethan isn’t it."_ or " _The Dolan Twins standing side by side are like expectation versus reality. Grayson's the expectation of-course - and… Ethan? Reality."_ He shows Grayson the tweets on his phone - words that make him physically ache. Grayson doesn’t reply, and stares at them silently as Ethan swipes through them. It's as if they never end.

"I don’t want to be a fucking unoriginal copy of you. Nobody sees me as me. Everyone likes _you_ more, and I'm sick of it, Gray. I’m so, so, _so_ sick of it." Ethan's utterly spent after saying this, and he covers his face with his tattooed hands - wishing he wasn't who he _was._

Grayson isn't paying attention to what he just said, however. "Someone said we're like " _buy-1, get-1 free_ " _-_ what the fuck?" Grayson squints at it, his voice hoarse. "I don't know if I'm supposed to find that funny or not, but shit, that's just wrong."

"There's even better ones, Gray. Read the one about the petition for ' _Grayson Dolan to start his own YouTube channel_.'" Ethan's voice cracks - and tears brim in his eyes. _What_ has he _done_ to make some of his viewers feel like this?

Then, before he realises it - he's crying. Not with those huge, dramatic shuddering sobs - but rather, resentful tears that cascade down his face. "Maybe I don’t wanna be who I am anymore. I can't even look in the mirror properly. It's so, so fucked up."

Grayson looks up, and puts the phone away instantly - scooting his chair over to Ethan's. Before he even realises it; he has Ethan in his arms, and his head rests on Grayson's chest.

"We have some of the most supportive people who watch our videos, too, though. They like us for _what_ we are - not what they want us to be. There's a balance, you know that, right, E?" Grayson hums, trying to believe it himself. He's seen hate tweets, but he always swipes away from them. He doesn't read more, and more, and more - until they finally wrack his brain; filling it with venom. Which is exactly what Ethan did.

"We have each other. Like, you're annoying as shit sometimes - and I can be more annoying than you are - but our channel isn't the same without both of us."

When Ethan doesn't respond, Grayson continues. "And, I'd be fucked without you. Who the fuck would set up our cameras properly, and shit? If I did videos on my own, half of our vids would be over-exposed, or blurry, or unfocused. Oh, and who _would_ actually talk? Because I'm awkward as shit in front of the camera _without you, Eth._ "

Despite his tears, Ethan laughs - rolling his eyes. He pushes himself away from Grayson and wipes his face. Grayson leans over and ruffles his hair. "Whatever we're going to do; we're gonna do it together, yeah? We're like, married, remember." Gray's tone is softer this time; more vulnerable.

"You're really shit at the video ideas without me, though." Ethan adds, a soft smile taking over his features.

"Yeah, and I'm not as funny, or as good at acting out stuff as you are too. If I made videos on my own; they'd probably be me just staring at the camera and talking about that dumb thing you did last week." Grayson grins, slapping Ethan's arm. _Naturally,_ Ethan slaps him back harder.

"What dumb thing did I do last week?"

"Isn't everything you do, dumb, though?" Grayson retorts. It's daring, but it makes Ethan shake his head and smirk.

"You know what? I'm gonna make a hate tweet about _you_ on my own Twitter. Yeah." Ethan takes his phone off of Grayson. "It's going to be entitled: _Grayson Dolan is a stupid assclown who-"_

Grayson snatches Ethan's phone from his hands before he can continue, and holds it out of reach. "All the news articles will literally start talking about how we hate each other then." He warns.

Ethan lunges for the phone jokingly. "Exactly. And, I won't be done, either. I'll make a fucking diss track about you, since you're so _rude_ to me, _Grayson._ "

Both of them know it'll never happen. Their eyes meet shyly; and it's almost sickening how full of affection their expressions are.  
They exchange a knowing smile; and the phone goes back on the table without further remarks.

"If it makes you happy, Ethan, then I want you to do _anything_ you want."

* * *


End file.
